Francis’s voice dropped to a tender note as he spoke the last words, and Lilith lifted her heavy lids and smiled at him with gentle sweetness. It was seldom that he had obtained more than a glimpse of those downcast eyes, but now they met his and held them in a lingering look which sent the blood racing through his veins. Suddenly, imperatively, the patience of years was broken, and hot words flowed from his lips. He loved her; she was the sweetest, the dearest of women. For years he had loved her; he would love her all his life; would live only to serve her. It was his own feelings on which he enlarged; his own feelings, which were obviously of the first importance. In his ardour there was no hint of anxiety. He was in love, but confidently in love. He had but to speak, and she would come fluttering to his arms.
But he wooed her well, denying her no tittle of her woman’s kingdom. He held her hands in his, and his big voice softened tenderly as he made his vows.
“I will take care of you,—such care as was never taken of a woman before! You are not fit to stand alone; you are too gentle and fragile. You want a big fellow like me to stand between you and the world. It shall be my work in life to shield you, and keep you sheltered and safe. Only trust yourself to me, and you will see. You will trust yourself, won’t you, darling? I’m not rich, but we should be comfortable enough. You are not the sort of girl to be ambitious, and, you do love me, Lilith!”
Lilith smiled, but she left her hand in his, and a tinge of colour showed in the pale cheeks.
“I think I do love you, Francis!” she said slowly.
Francis pressed her hand in acknowledgment. Unbroken confidence had deprived him of the great thrill which comes to most men at the knowledge that they are beloved; but one cannot have everything in this world, and if the choice had been his, he would unhesitatingly have plumped for the greater ease. He pressed her hand, and bent over her tenderly.
“My darling girl! You make me very happy. You shall never regret it, I’ll promise you that... Look at your little mite of a hand lying in mine!—I could crush it to pieces with one clutch from my big paw. They are a type of the difference between us—those two hands—I so big, and strong, and you such a little slip of a weak, helpless thing.”
Lilith bent her head on one side, and looked down with a smile. She lifted her tiny fingers and softly stroked the giant hand.
“Why do you love me, Francis?”
“Because I can’t help it!” returned Francis promptly. “Good heavens, Lilith, if you knew how thankful a fellow is to meet a good old-fashioned girl! I’m fed up with these modern specimens, who set themselves up to be equal with men, and push and drive to force themselves to the front, instead of being content with the place which Nature has given them. I couldn’t stick a modern woman. I want a wife who will let me judge for her, and be thankful to have my protection—like you, you little darling! You are everything that a woman ought to be... And why do you love me?”